Backing the Circle
Ann!
Funny how it is as easy to reconnect as it was to lose touch, eh?
I’m really glad (or is it disturbed?) that you saved those letters all these years. Part of me would like to think that I have a box of your letters somewhere, but after four cross-country moves and about a dozen regional moves over the years, I think that is a lost cause. On the other hand, our latest move right after Christmas was to a much smaller house, so perhaps those treasures are buried in one of the dozens of boxes we are paying a small car payment’s worth monthly to keep in storage.
I vividly remember why we started letter-writing. You moved to Virginia, and we vowed to keep in touch. Somewhere in there, Ed and I got permission to go visit you and your family for our high school graduation present, the Internet wasn’t yet invented, and long-distance phone calls cost a lot of money, so writing was it. (I also remember spending too much money on phone calls, but don’t tell my parents.) I don’t remember how long it was between the time you moved and Ed and I graduated, but I remember that writing was a way to keep things in motion for our graduation-summer visit.
That visit was epic — along several dimensions. One was health. My fragile Southern California-native constitution had never experienced humidity, and that DC-area summer delivered with a vengeance. My constitution didn’t, so I was miserable with a raging sinus infection for most of the visit. I’ll never forget my vow, as we flew back to California, that I would never live east of the Rockies because I was not going to put up with humidity again.
Famous last words; we lived in Detroit for a while, then ended up spending almost 20 years in the DC area, and it was a great experience.
Who did we become?
That’s an insightful question. I think it is fair to say that we became the sum of our decisions and experiences — and our reactions to both.
As you know, I hit the lottery when I convinced my bride (twice!) to marry me, and we have an incredible family around which our world revolves. We thrive on “Adventure!” (despite how much that makes our kids cringe), and we try to be intentional about paying attention to the big things (like our relationships and our families) while ignoring all the noise. Being good at this is a lifelong struggle for me, but on balance, we have done pretty well.
Intentionality
We lost touch due to a lack of intentionality — the mirror image of us now, as we do this on purpose. We intentionally kept in touch when you moved during high school (and again later, when you joined me [and 14,000 of my closest friends] at UCD), but a few years later, life happened. Life is messy, overwhelming, underwhelming, and noisy; as mere mortals trying to navigate all that while also trying to be there for a growing family, aging parents, and challenging career makes being intentional seem like an unreachable ideal.
Hindsight being the perfect analyst, it’s obvious that intentionality was the open secret all along. Marriages can’t work without it; kids aren’t shaped without it; dreams don’t come true without loads of it (along with its close cousin luck), and we cannot reconnect — and stay connected — unless it's on purpose.
One of the reasons I like enduring the exquisite torture of writing is that it clarifies my understanding of myself while communicating with others. This is not usually as transparent as these last few paragraphs, but the benefit is the same. I hope others resonate with a point or two as well.
